Time Drives Away Fast
by Priestess Mayumi
Summary: When Doc Hudson returns to the world of racing, everything's pretty much the same...except the one thing he never wanted to change. Has time gotton away, or does this old-timer still have a chance to make things work?
1. Chapter 1

Time Drives Away Fast

Disclaimer: I do not own Cars (Disney/Pixar) and do not even pretend to. I'm not selling this…pity. But hey, everyone knows that the real money is in biological weapons ;-) All recognizable characters, circumstances, dialogue…etc. are property of the above companies. Everything else comes from the dark and dreary recesses of my warped mind, so ask before you borrow…honestly, these characters are H-A-R-D to handle and will drive you absolutely nuts and wake you up at odd hours of the night if misused.

Warning: Contents may drive you irreversibly crazy…JK ;-) No language or *cough* inappropriate content included. Violence as in car crashes and a little bit of toxic paint, but nothing too graphic I hope. Actions included that real cars have absolutely NO chance of doing (ex. Playing guitar) so humor me a little.

Um…what else? Oh yeah, comments are to me as gas is to cars. Flames will be used to heat my room because it's January, it's really cold, and no one's getting around to mending my window anytime soon. Thanks and enjoy.

Chapter One: Back on the Track

Doc Hudson (aka the Fabulous Hudson Hornet) splashed himself again with his window-washing fluid. Why, oh, _why_ did the prix for the Piston Cup have to be held on the single hottest day of the year? The hot air was making his engine ache and tremble with heat.

"Doc? Doc? DOC?!!"

"Huh? What?" Doc snapped back to reality in an instant. His protégé, Lightning McQueen, greeted him with a soft, yet tired and worried, smile.

"Hey, Doc? The heat getting to you?"

"Hah. Very funny, rookie. I've been in places so hot that you could fry an egg on the sidewalk."

Lightning chuckled and backed away a little bit. "Save the jokes for the race, Doc. You'll need something to laugh at after I beat your record by winning the prix."

"In your dreams, rookie." Doc lightheartedly sneered at the younger car, wiping away the perspiration forming on his windshield with his windshield wipers. Even though Lightning still had the annoying habit of driving him nuts, he admired the younger car, who had matured an awful lot in only a year. Although his boastful, competitive attitude still remained, he was no longer, well, the jerk he'd been when he had first showed up in Radiator Springs. He'd learned how to care about other people, and had so endeared all the townsfolk to him, all of which were anxiously awaiting the race that afternoon.

Doc turned at the sound of a rusty clickety-clank sound coming down the road. He saw Lightning's smile beam at the sight of his good friend, Mater.

"Hey there, Mr. Practing-Like-a-Lunatic-in-97 degree-Weather! You'd best be heading back to the trailer. The missus doesn't want yah overheating 'fore the big race!"

"Hey there, Mater. Don't worry, I was just about to leave." Doc shot him a look that silently screamed _LIAR!_, and Lightning greeted it with a big _DON'T BLOW IT_ smile. Lightning's engine gave a rumble, and took off, with Doc not too far behind in the dust.

Just at that moment, as though on cue like someone had choreographed it, they showed up. Lightning rolled his eyes and Doc could tell they were both thinking the same thing: _Dang paparazzi! _If there was one thing Doc hadn't missed about racing, it was the paparazzi. They had always driven him _crazy_. No privacy…ever! And the hundreds of camera flashes were adding to the unbearable heat, which was already threatening to stifle the older car.

Trying to gulp down the air he was sharing with about 250 different people, Doc looked up through the blinding camera flashes. The noise of all those stinking personal question could have drowned out an earthquake.

"Hey Lightning! How was your honeymoon, huh?"

"Doc Hudson! Is it true that a chronically-occurring phobia of sharp turns has kept you off the track for so long?"

"How do you two feel about Dinaco's new competition?"

"Any comment about Chick Hicks's suspension from racing?"

That last one stung, briefly. Chick Hicks had been suspended from racing until further notice. After what he had done to Dinaco's golden boy, the King, after last year's race, only one little known company had agreed to sponsor him. Outraged, he had become even a more ruthless driver, out for what seemed like personal revenge. The last straw had been opening attacking Dinaco's new rookie in a previous race a few weeks ago.

Pushing through the crowd, trying not to run into anyone, Lightning and Doc muttered, "No comment. No comment," as though that would somehow help.

About to scream from heat exhaustion, Doc Hudson looked up through the crowd. All the managers, families, and teams of the racers were bustling around, offering last minute encouragement and advice. One car, in particular, caught his eye. She was a beautiful, deep-green 1938 Chrysler Royal. Her eyes were down and she was moving slowly, almost heavily. Something about her was haunting, almost…familiar.

Something out of the corner of her left eye caught her attention, and when she raised her head to look at it, her eyes caught his.

His engine skipped a beat.

The look on her face was first one of confusion, and then became one of utter and complete shock. Her paint paled in the sun and her mouth dropped open in an expression somewhere between surprise and terror.

_Hudson_, he saw her mouth, almost incredulously, as though she had seen a ghost.

_Rayna, _he mouthed back. A look of recognition sparkled in her eyes, and she cautiously drove toward him. Stuck in the crowd, he edged his way toward her. They got so close that he could almost smell her exhaust fumes, but then a whole new wave of reporters and newscasters showed up and blocked the way between them. Flashing him an understanding look, the female car turned away and rode off into the distance.

He tried to go after her, but he couldn't have done so without seriously crushing someone's hood.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone who has read and commented so far. Remember, I can never get too many comments!!! Hope you enjoy Ch. 2! By the way, Brian Regan is my favorite stand-up comedian. He is HILLARIOUS!!! Look him up if you have the time, on You Tube or any other video site.

Chapter Two: Staring You In the Face

Well, turns out you don't need Chick Hicks to cause utter damage and chaos. They've found his replacement…

Ewan Blake.

Doc Hudson cursed softly under his breath. Lightning had won this prix, by a hair length. One more turn and that crazy rookie Blake might have caused a major accident. Doc couldn't tell if this entire catastrophe was the result of untrained youth, or a very hard driven need to win. He just hoped it wasn't the latter. He'd seen _enough_ of that.

He'd searched the crowds frequently, looking for Rayna (or her twin, or ghost, or whatever she was) but he'd never seen her. He mockingly laughed at himself. Why had he thought she would come? Rayna had hated races and had avoided them whenever possible.

Hudson headed toward Lightning's trailer. He wanted to compare notes, strategies, and observations like he always did with McQueen. They both saw the track and the race a different way; they each had half of a puzzle. The reason why he and Lightning were such a good team is that they had a very strong coach-racer relationship.

Rounding the corner, Doc screeched on his breaks. There was a yellow racing banner tied onto the door…Lightning and Sally's sign that they were not to be disturbed. _That's okay._ Doc thought to himself. _Let him rest, I could use a little shuteye too._

Suddenly, out of nowhere, someone nudged him on the back. Doc Hudson _hated_ being nudged or tapped. It was just so _annoying_. Turning around sharply, ready to berate a younger fan-car, he stopped short when an old, familiar face looked back at him.

"Hey, Hudson. Remember me, ole' pal?"

Smiling at the goofy, totally fake accent, like he always had, Doc responded, "Oh Tim, you know I could never forget you!"

It was Tim Staffles, one of Doc's old pit crew members. They had been good friends back in the day and Tim had always been able to get him to laugh, a feat remarkable in and of itself.

"Ne'er thought I'd see you 'gain Hudson."

"Likewise, Tim. So, what are you doing here? Still in the racing business?"

"Me? Nah. I'm a-way too ole' fur that stuff. I a-heard you 'ere in town and came to see if'n you still had it in you. I heard that racer o' yours had a Honda of a rookie season."

Smirking in a laughing way, Hudson shot back, "Every year will be his rookie season to me."

Tim laughed back. "Same ole' Hudson Hornet. So, what did ya think of the race, or to be more specific, what did ya think of the competition?"

Grunting, Doc Hudson replied, "Pretty okay, except for that crazy rookie Ewan Blake. What's he trying to do? Commit genocide?"

Tim chuckled and managed to get out through laughter, "Were you surprised? I mean, considering who his coach is?" Tim laughed again like it was the funniest joke in the world. The only problem was, Doc Hudson didn't understand the punch line. That kind of helps sometimes, if you think about it.

"Coach? Who's his coach?"

Tim looked at him funny for a moment, and then cracked up like Doc Hudson was Brian Regan or something. He was obviously waiting for Hudson's confirmation laughter. When it didn't come, there was an awkward silence that followed, and I stunned and confused look on Tim's face.

"You mean…you don't know who Blake's coach is?" The phony accent was gone; that was how Doc knew he had slipped into dead-serious, don't-you-dare-play-with-me mode.

"No Tim. I don't really concern myself with the other coaches. Should I? Who's Blake's coach."

Pressing his hood together into a thin line, Tim mumbled, "I don't think I should. You won't like it."

Sighing exasperatedly, Doc shot back, "You know that I already don't like a lot of things and have to deal with them anyway. Who is it? Who's Blake's coach?"

All but cursing, Tim managed to grit out, through his teeth, "Smokey. Smokey Peters."

In that moment, Doc Hudson once again saw the glaring glow of angry headlights and the frightening flash scene of his life playing rapidly before his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Don't own it. That should be enough, I think.

Warning: The word "reiterate" is redundant. It's true! "Iterate" means to "repeat" or to "say again", so you really don't need the "re-" part! My WG coach told me that yesterday, and then it clicked! Everything I knew was WRONG! How am I supposed to trust my teachers _ever_ again when they've been teaching me incorrectly for years? So, just so you don't get duped, it's really "iterate".

Chapter Three: Hiding Away

Out of breath, Rayna finally reached her trailer and slammed the door hurriedly. She sat there in the dark, not daring or willing to turn on any lights. The silence was a comfort, somewhat…it was better than listening to the screaming voices of her conscience.

_Hudson_. He was alive. She had given up any small sliver of hope that she would ever see him again…and now that she had, she hoped that he would go back to where he came from instead of hovering around here, like a dark cloud.

He was here for the races; of that she had no doubt. But why now? Why _this_ race? It was just like time, to force them together at one of the worst possible moments.

She promptly sent an excuse of sickness to keep her from having to go to the prix. She couldn't face him! She wondered, dizzily, if Smokey already knew he was here. She prayed it was otherwise. In fact, she started to pray that a UFO would appear and just take Hudson away, but that didn't seem like a plausible option at the moment.

And so, she sat there in the dark and silence. It was only when she heard a rap at the trailer door that she realized that she was still conscious. "Come in," she shouted wearily.

When the trailer door opened, a small but fierce blue car came in and parked in front of Rayna. "Why did you skip?" the car demanded.

Smiling faintly, Rayna replied, "Nice to see you too, Alexia."

"No, seriously! We got in _huge_ trouble trying to cover for you! Why the Honda did you skip?" Alexia had been Rayna's best friend for a long time, but Rayna knew not to play with her when she was in this kind of a mood.

So she whispered, just loud enough for Alexia to hear, "He's here, Alexia. He's here…Hudson."

It took a moment for this information to register, but when it did the other car's eyes widened in shock and astonishment. "You're…you're _sure_?"

"As sure as I've ever been of anything. I saw him, and the bad thing is that he also recognized _me_."

Alexia hissed under her breath, her alternative to cursing, or at least her way of making sure that no one understood what she was saying. "So, they were talking about _that_ Coach Hudson."

"What? Who? Who was talking?"

Sucking a deep breath in, Alexia mumbled, "We lost. We lost Rayna. Smokey's furious. We lost to Lightning McQueen."

The name sparked recognition in Rayna's mind. "McQueen? Isn't he the rookie who almost won the Piston Cup last year?"

"Yeah. And guess who his coach is."

A twisting, sick feeling started to come from Rayna's engine. "Oh…no."

"You've got that right."

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And so, Rayna went resolutely into hiding. If Hudson was a _coach_, she had no chance of avoiding him. She skipped dinner that night, too afraid and upset to eat.

There was no way she had wanted him pulled into this. She knew what Smokey and Ewan were planning with the competition. _Well_, she thought, _if Alexia knew…then Smokey _certainly _knows. _

What would she do about the races? She couldn't skip _every one_. Smokey had almost gone into internal combustion when she had missed one. But, he would be there. She couldn't risk it. This was a much more dangerous pond that they were swimming in now.

How, oh how though, could she _face _him? Or, even worse, _tell_ him? It was her worst nightmare come true, only this time she couldn't pinch herself to get herself to wake up.


End file.
